Operation Hydra (Beyond Ontariese 2)

by Cyndi Friberg

  He took her fingers and positioned them at the edges of the disk and then held it up, allowing light to pass through the disk. The disk came alive, a vivid, three-dimensional image formed within the etched circle.

  The man was lean, gracefully strong like a dancer, the shape of his mouth, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. Krysta could see his resemblance to Trey. His hair was inky black with subtle blue strands and his eyes combined shades of gray, blue and brown. His arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a woman. Krysta’s eyes narrowed and she shifted the disk, bringing the woman into sharper focus.

  How could this be? She was afraid to move. Afraid it was a trick of the light. Loss and loneliness grasped her chest, refusing to let air into her aching lungs. Tentatively, she reached out to stroke the familiar features, but her fingers only touched the surface of the disk. Her mind reeled and she furiously blinked back tears.

  “She has my mother’s face and Belle’s eyes.” Her hand trembled. “But she’s so young.”

  “That’s your Aunt Charlotte, your mother’s twin.”

  Krysta closed her hand around the disk and looked at Trey. “It doesn’t make sense. She looks more my age than my mother’s. How can this woman be my mother’s twin?”

  “Let’s sit and see if I can explain.” He motioned toward the sofa. “Would you like something to drink? I know the—”

  “Stop trying to play host and just explain this to me.”

  He sat beside her and she fiddled with the disk. Without light shining through it, there was no image, just a faint pearly sheen.

  “The interdimensional portal can only be manipulated by the most powerful Ontarian Mystics. It requires a specific gift that very few Master-level Mages possess.”

  “My grandmother, this Queen E’Lanna, possessed this gift?”

  “Yes. She sent Charlotte to the twentieth century and she attempted to send your mother to the same location one hundred years later. But she was exhausted and the portal slipped. Krystabel was sent to the correct location but two hundred years later instead of one.”

  Krysta held up the disk, marveling again at the woman’s face.

  “The Six, a secret organization of Mystics, searched for your mother but they were looking in the wrong place—or rather in the wrong time. She was one hundred years farther into Earth’s future than she was intended to go.”

  Closing her fist around the disk, Krysta met his gaze. “But you said this happened one hundred years ago and Charlotte looks twenty years younger than my mother. My mother was in her forties when she died.”

  He paused as if he meant to say something. His hands covered hers but then his expression changed, closed. “The interdimensional portal can make time confusing. High Queen E’Lanna sent the royal twins through ninety-nine cycles ago in the Ontarian dimension, but once each twin arrived, they became part of Earth’s temporal dimension. Though eighty-nine cycles had passed on Ontariese, Charlotte had been on Earth for about thirty cycles when we located her.”

  “Time doesn’t pass at the same rate on Ontariese as it does on Earth?”

  He shook his head. Light danced in his multi-colored hair. “It has nothing to do with the passing of time. It has to do with the movement of the portal.”

  “It can take you from any point in time to any other point in time, not just from one location to another. My mother was sent through this portal forty-seven years ago, but on Ontariese almost a hundred—cycles have passed?”

  His amber eyes gleamed approvingly. “Exactly.”

  “And my aunt was sent to Earth that same day, but she arrived here two hundred years ago.”

  He smiled. “Yes. Are you beginning to understand?”

  “Is Earth the only planet you can access with this portal?”

  His pause was shorter this time. Trusting her with Ontarian secrets wasn’t comfortable for him. Krysta smiled. Well, learning about Ontarian concepts wasn’t comfortable for her. They both had a long way to go.

  “We’re able to visit many places.” He stretched his arm along the back of the couch. “Earth is one of the farthest destinations from Ontariese. That’s why E’Lanna chose it. Except for an occasional visit from a Mystic, Earth and Ontariese don’t interact.”

  “Can you bring ships through these portals?”

  Trey tried to relax. Her curiosity was simply that, curiosity. She had no hidden motives for wanting to know about Ontariese. It was natural, expected.

  “It’s easier and more natural for the Mystics to transport themselves through the portals, but this is the second time we have successfully navigated a ship through.”

  “The second time? Were you part of the team that returned my aunt to Ontariese?”

  “Yes. That was nearly ten cycles ago.”

  “My aunt is the High Queen of your planet.” She combed her damp hair with her fingers.

  “You are Krysta dar Aune. The dar indicates that you belong to a royal house. Those belonging to one of the great houses are addressed with a cet between their two names.”

  Her gaze turned thoughtful, but a smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. “So why did Charlotte choose your brother over you?”

  Trey smiled, warmed by her playful praise. “I asked her the same thing, but there is simply no accounting for taste.”

  She held out the disk but he closed her hand around it. “Keep it. At least until you’ve met Charlotte in person.”

  She rose, tucking the disk into the robe’s pocket. “When will that be?”

  “That’s entirely up to you. Vee could take you as soon as we return to my ship.”

  Carefully overlapping the edges of the robe, she tightened the belt and then crossed her arms. Why was she suddenly so uncomfortable?

  “Do you not want to go to Ontariese?” he asked.

  “Two days ago, I’d never been beyond the dome. It’s all a little overwhelming.”

  Trey had only glimpsed what her life must be like, but the glimpse left him shaken. She had no control over even the simplest elements of her life. Her clothing, her food, her activities were all selected with no consideration for her preferences or opinions. She was a prisoner, manipulated and abused by a ruthless madman.

  “Tell me about the Companion. Do you think the messages were left there for anyone to find or were they meant for you specifically?”

  She strolled back to the viewport, presenting him her profile. Trying not to crowd her, Trey followed but stayed a step away.

  “How is Belle?” he asked softly.

  “Her signal hasn’t changed since we left The Center.”

  A shiver passed through her, drawing his gaze. Her eyes were luminous in the cabin’s soft light, captivating, intriguing. “Are you warm enough?”

  “I’d be, if you… You asked about the Companion.”

  He cupped her chin and tilted her face up, waiting until she met his gaze. “If what? What were you going to say?”

  “If you’d put your arms around me,” she admitted in an embarrassed whisper.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed anymore. I’m thrilled that you find me attractive and the feeling is more than mutual. You fascinate me. I want to get to know you. I want to understand you, and I want to make love to you.”

  She smiled, turning her head to kiss his palm. “Getting to know me should be easier now that I actually know who you are, but understanding me?” She laughed. “Half the time I don’t understand myself.”

  “And making love to you?”

  “Has seemed almost inevitable.” She raised her hands to his chest.

  His gaze locked with hers. “No more games, no manipulation. If you aren’t sure you want to be my lover, we can wait until you are. It doesn’t have to be today.”

  Her taunting chuckle stroked his senses just as tangibly as teasing fingertips. “And if I decide you aren’t the man I want for my lover?”

  “Then I persuade you that you’re wrong.” Running his index finger along her collarbone, he ventured into
the valley between her breasts.

  She laughed again and tried to push him away, but he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her snugly against his chest. “You said no pressure, remember?”

  “No, I said no manipulation. There’s a difference. Besides, touching you isn’t pressure. It’s persuasion.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, intentionally avoiding anything more intimate. “Now tell me about the Companion.”

  “Now you want to talk?” She squirmed.

  He grabbed her hips and pressed his erection against her belly. “It will be a quick conversation, I assure you.”

  “The first message was contained within a profile I was building. It was unlocked with my personal password so I can only presume it was meant for me.”

  “A profile? Explain what you mean.”

  She moved closer, tucking her head under his chin so her face was hidden from view. “I’ve always wanted to see the ocean so I requested a simulation on the beach.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Companion came at sunset, but instead of seducing me like he was supposed to, he told me to do whatever I could to arrange a field trip to Meditek. He told me to ask for I-219. Then his image wavered and he became the seductive stranger I’d been expecting in the first place. When my session was over, I wrote down those words, Meditek and I-219. I had no idea what it meant at the time, but I used the library computer to find out what I could about Meditek.”

  “Well, I-219 is waiting for us at the resort.”

  “And tonight?”

  “Tonight can be anything you want. We can go slow and easy or wild and crazy. Just tell me which you prefer. If you were programming the Companion to give you the greatest pleasure, what would you select?”

  She glanced beyond him. “I told you, I never used the Companion to simulate sensation, so how would I know?”

  “I guess,” he soothed her with a crooked smile, “we’ll have to touch and see.”

  Chapter Eight

  Krysta looked at Trey as if he’d lost his mind. “You want to do what?”

  “On Ontariese the process is unnecessary. But I saw razors in the bathing chamber so I figured—”

  “Why is the process unnecessary on Ontariese?” she asked despite the fact that Trey hated to be interrupted.

  “Body hair is a matter of personal preference, but those who choose smooth skin simply use a cream to exfoliate all unwanted body hair and dead skin cells.”

  “Doesn’t the hair grow back?”

  “No.”

  He sounded so matter-of-fact that she felt foolish. “We have similar products but they aren’t permanent.”

  “Then you shave your legs?”

  “Yes, but why would such a mundane task appeal to you?”

  He shot her a sultry smile. “It’s only mundane when you do it to yourself. Have you ever had someone else wash your hair?”

  His careless question reminded her how vastly different were their worlds. She had exactly ten minutes each morning to take a shower and hurriedly wash her hair. Shaving her legs was a personal preference she used some of her precious leisure time to indulge.

  “Fine. If you want to shave my legs, shave my legs.”

  Grinning like a naughty little boy, he took her hand and led her across the cabin. He pulled his uniform top off over his head and folded it neatly before pulling on a white robe similar to hers. Staring deeply into her eyes, he reached under the robe and shucked his pants. Krysta wasn’t sure if she appreciated his modesty or not.

  “You probably shouldn’t get your garment wet.” He arched his brow in challenge.

  She stepped into the tub and sat on the wide ledge on the opposite side. Leaving her feet in the tub, she neatly tucked the robe above her knees.

  “If you don’t have razors on Ontariese, how did you know what one was?” She watched him gather supplies.

  “Between Dro Tar and Charlotte, I couldn’t help but learn about all things Earthish.” He knelt beside the tub.

  He set the supplies on the floor and pressed his thumb to the control, sliding it three quarters of the way across the smooth pad. Warm water flowed from a thin slit rimming the tub and in a matter of minutes Krysta was ankle-deep in the water.

  “Is that too hot?” He arranged the items on the floor.

  Fascinated by his intensity, Krysta found it hard to sit still. She wiggled her toes in the water and took advantage of his distraction. His robe gaped, revealing a teasing peek of his highly defined pectorals. The tub hid the rest of his body, but one glance in that direction filled her mind with vivid memories of rippling muscles and long, bronzed limbs.

  He tossed back his autumn-colored hair and folded his arms along the rim of the tub, smiling indulgently. “Is the water too hot?” He repeated the question in a deep, sensual purr.

  “The water’s fine.” She carefully maneuvered the words around the lump in her throat.

  Without the distortion of the black contacts, each element of his face combined in perfect harmony. His multi-colored hair warmed his bronze-tinted skin and the strong angles of his features drew attention to his swirling amber eyes.

  Devastating. He commanded her senses with his smile. Made her skin tingle with just a heated glance. How would she survive his touch without burning to cinders? Turning off the water, he took a blue capsule between his fingers. “Put your foot up here.” He patted the rim of the tub right in front of him.

  Her stomach did a tingly little summersault and she fought the urge to bolt. You agreed to this, Krysta. He just wants to shave your legs.

  Mustering her courage, she raised her foot to the other side of the tub. As if ordained by his will, her robe parted, revealing the entire length of her leg and several inches of hip. She quickly tucked it around her as best she could, but the extended position of her leg made modesty impossible—and he knew it!

  He burst the blue capsule, capturing the liquid in the palm of his other hand. A mound of dense blue foam formed and he quickly spread it over her calf.

  “It’s warm.”

  He smiled, glancing up from his task. “Your skin is warmer.”

  One hand grasped the edge of the tub and the other held her robe together. His hands moved gently over her calf, her knee, her thigh. She swallowed hard. “I don’t shave my thighs.”

  He grinned. “I know.”

  Fear insinuated itself into her mind. She wanted Trey, craved the pleasure and freedom waiting in his arms, but something held her back, made her doubt. “Who are you, Trey dar Aune?” His fingers played along the inside of her thigh. “Why do I feel as if I’ve known you forever, and yet I will never know you at all?”

  He paused, his fingers lightly circling her knee. “The masks are off, sweetheart. You’re looking at the real me.”

  She let her gaze drink in his handsome features, his earnest expression, his smoldering amber eyes. “I see you, but I don’t know you. Is the man in the picture disk your only brother? Do you get along with your parents? Do you have a sister?”

  He averted his gaze, fiddling with something on the floor. “My mother and two sisters were murdered by Shadow Assassins because of the Great Conflict.”

  “Oh Trey…”

  Before she could move across the tub and wrap her arms around his neck, he grabbed her ankle and dipped the razor in the water.

  Okay, perfect. Make him angry then turn him loose with a sharp object! The first stroke of the razor allayed her fears. His hand moved firm and steady and he began to talk.

  “I’m the oldest then Tal. Our sisters were much younger. Finding Charlotte has brought peace to Ontariese, but we’re still struggling to solidify our new identity. For a hundred cycles we were defined by the war. It’s not a simple thing to overcome. Resentments run deep, generations of prejudice.”

  She pulled his hand away from her leg, drawing his gaze. “I didn’t ask about Ontariese, I asked about you. Tell me about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

 
“Did you have lots of friends as a child? What was your favorite subject in school?” She smiled, hoping the silly nature of the questions would encourage him to open up.

  “I had private tutors. The sons of Prefect Aune were never allowed to play with other children. That would have been unseemly and too big a security risk.”

  The war again. She sighed. He finished shaving her leg and motioned for her to give him the other. “Were you and your brother close?” Surely, there had been someone.

  “Tal was accepted for apprenticeship by the Mystics when he was six. I rarely saw him after that. My military training at the City of Tears began at twelve.”

  “Twelve? You were sent to a military academy at twelve?” Perhaps their lives hadn’t been so different after all.

  He laughed, bursting another blue capsule against his palm. “You wanted to know. Would you like to hear about my training? It was ruthless and often violent. It shaped my body and disciplined my mind. It prepared me to rule a sect being torn apart by civil war.”

  His hands moved against her leg, farther up along her thigh than he had gone before. Krysta shivered. “But the war is more or less over, so what do you do now?”

  He braced his hands against the tub, his gaze swirling wildly. “How do you do it?” he demanded. “How do you continue to find the one question that will make me want to strangle you faster than any other?”

  Emitting a nervous little laugh, she shrugged. “Just lucky I guess.”

  He dipped the razor in the water and turned his attention back to her half-shaved leg. His head bowed to the task, his hair obscuring his face. One hand circled her ankle while the other deftly plied the razor. Unsure of his mood, Krysta held perfectly still.

  “Peace, however fragile, is good for Ontariese. The new Joint Council has established the sort of balance essential for successful government—but it made me obsolete.”

  Tossing the razor into the tub, Trey activated the drain and reached for a towel. He had hoped to help her relax, to help her grow accustomed to the feel of his hands on her body before he took her to bed.